


hear high groan as you melt away

by growlery writes (growlery)



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Aftercare, D/s Vibes, M/M, Offscreen Kink Negotiation, a soft story about throatfucking your bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-09 10:28:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20851943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/growlery/pseuds/growlery%20writes
Summary: Tyson nods before he remembers himself. Colin looks like he's about to remind him to use his words, but Tyson beats him to it. "Yeah, man," he says, "fuck my face already."





	hear high groan as you melt away

**Author's Note:**

> writing has been impossible lately, so of course this is what i manage to finish ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> title is extremely on the nose and is from keep it steady by empires

Colin's gentle. He's always gentle. 

"Hands behind your back," he says, and Tyson obeys, his shoulders straightening, in anticipation, maybe, or maybe it's just muscle memory, his body trained to react to Colin's soft-voiced orders. "Do you need me to tie you up? I can get the keys for you to hold." 

"I'm good," Tyson says, and Colin smiles, pleased. 

"You are," Colin agrees. Tyson holds in a shiver, and that's definitely anticipation. He can hold still, though. He doesn't need Colin to make him. "Are you ready?" 

Tyson nods before he remembers himself. Colin looks like he's about to remind him to use his words, but Tyson beats him to it. "Yeah, man," he says, "fuck my face already."

Colin laughs, warm enough that Tyson squirms a little, can't help it. Colin tips his chin up with a finger and kisses him, feather light, just at the corner of his mouth, then pulls back a little, smiling but still serious. 

"Signals?" 

"Two taps to pause, one tap to stop," Tyson recites, and Colin gives him that pleased smile again. Tyson's warm all over, and they've barely even started, shit. "I'm ready," he says, licking his lips. "Do it."

Colin nods. He stands up from where he's been sitting on the edge of the bed and pulls his boxers down, kicking them off from around his ankles. There's nothing graceful about it, and the smile he gives Tyson is a little goofy, like Tyson gives a single shit. Colin's almost entirely soft, and Tyson would like to go about fixing that, like, right now. His fingers flex where they're laced together against his back, and he thinks about asking again, Colin likes it when he asks, Colin _really_ likes it when he begs, but that's not what they're doing tonight. 

Colin doesn't leave him waiting long, anyway. 

"Open your mouth," he says, and Tyson does, and, "Close your eyes," he says, and Tyson does. 

He gets Colin's fingers first, two of them pressing on his lower lip. Tyson closes his mouth around them and sucks, flicking his tongue over the pads, and above him, Colin makes a quiet, almost wondering noise. 

"So good, Josty," he says softly. "Always so good." 

Tyson smiles, his mouth opening up with it, and Colin pushes further in, presses down on Tyson's tongue. Tyson scrapes his teeth over one finger, his mouth stretching a little wider at the noise Colin makes, and then there's a third finger in Tyson's mouth, pushing almost to the back of his throat. Tyson barely has time to enjoy it before Colin's pulling all the way out, and he makes a protesting noise that already sounds a little raw. 

Soft fingers on his chin, sliding up his jaw, tipping his head back just a little bit. Tyson breathes. It sounds like Colin is- moving? Kneeling down, on a level with Tyson. That's Colin's breath on Tyson's cheek, his body heat moving close. Tyson thinks Colin might kiss him - wants, fucking wants, holds himself still so he doesn't close the distance himself. 

"Willy," he breathes, not really a question. 

Colin reaches around him to hold his elbows, drags down to Tyson's wrists, squeezes. 

"Signals," he says, and he's gentle, he's always gentle. 

"Two taps to pause,” Tyson repeats, “one tap to stop."

"Good," Colin says, the smile in his voice so loud. "You can kiss me, if you want."

"_If_," Tyson huffs out, and Colin's laughing when Tyson lunges at him as best he can without moving more than his shoulders. 

They kiss, Colin keeping it frustratingly gentle, until he pulls back and Tyson makes a soft noise at the absence of him, locks his shoulders tight so he doesn't follow. Colin rewards him with an approving hum and a steady hand on his shoulders. 

"Ready?" Colin asks, squeezing just a little. 

"How many taps is it for _get the fuck on with it,_" Tyson says blithely, and Colin laughs. 

"Tyson," he says gently, "are you ready?"

"_Yes_," Tyson says, on an exhale, and he can hear the smile in Colin's voice when he says, "Good."

There's a beat, the sounds of Colin straightening up, and then Tyson feels the head of Colin's dick, halfway to hard now, nudging at Tyson's lips, but not pressing in, not yet.

"You can open your eyes," Colin says, and Tyson does, blinking to adjust to the light, and then looking up at Colin, who lets out a pleased little puff of air before he smiles. 

"Beautiful," he says, "you're so fucking beautiful, Josty."

Tyson can't. He fucking can't wait any more. He opens his mouth around Colin’s dick and sucks hard at the head, grinning at the punched-out noise Colin makes. Tyson bobs forward until he hits the root, feels Colin thickening in his mouth, at the back of his throat, until he chokes and Colin pulls him back with a hand in his hair. 

“Slow,” Colin says, as close to reproachful as he ever gets. It’s kind of ruined by how breathless he is, and, shit, Tyson’s _glowing_. 

He goes slow, steady. Colin’s got a hand curled around himself to keep Tyson from going down too far, and every time he goes Tyson kisses his knuckles and stays, just for a second, holding Colin in his mouth and listening to his breathing get more and more ragged. If Colin let him, Tyson thinks he could do this all night, work him up slowly and keep him maddeningly close to the edge, however long it took until he lost it, whatever keeps him so patient, so gentle. 

Tyson makes a noise in his throat at the thought, and Colin’s hips jerk forward, which just makes Tyson moan again, longer. Yeah, that’s what he wants. That’s what he fucking wants. 

“Fuck,” Colin breathes, his hips rocking a few more times before he stops. Tyson shivers in anticipation. Colin spreads the fingers of his other hand into Tyson’s hair, closes into a fist. Tyson’s eyes slowly close, but Colin says, voice very soft, “Look at me, Josty.”

Tyson does, a slow blink up to meet Colin’s gaze, and Colin smiles at him, his eyes just a little wild. He draws almost all the way out, then slowly pushes, pushes, pushes, pulling back just before Tyson would choke. Tyson breathes through his nose and maintains eye contact. 

“Fucking gorgeous,” Colin says, breaking into a breathy moan when Tyson hollows his cheeks. 

Colin goes just a little bit further the next time, goes a little faster the next. He misjudges it a few times, pulls back to let Tyson cough and swallow, thumbing under Tyson’s jaw before he goes back down. It’s only a few times, and then it’s perfect, a rhythmic slide that Tyson loses himself in, the world narrowed down to Colin’s dick heavy in Tyson’s mouth, his fingers knotted in Tyson’s hair, his breaths loud in Tyson’s ears. 

Then Colin pushes all the way in and stops. Tyson makes a noise, not quite protesting. Colin puts both hands on Tyson’s shoulders and squeezes. 

“You’re doing so good,” he murmurs, lighting Tyson up all over, “do you need to stop?”

When Tyson just looks back at him, eyes wide and open, Colin smiles at him. He keeps smiling as he grinds against Tyson’s face, hands moving to the back of Tyson’s neck to hold him just where he is, and then he pushes forward, and Tyson’s throat is full and his mind is empty, pure bliss. 

Finally, _finally_, Colin picks up the pace. He draws back then shoves forward, rough but still careful, always fucking careful with Tyson. He moves back and forth, back and forth, before drawing back entirely, letting Tyson cough and breathe and cough some more. Then he does it again, slides all the way home, and Tyson could do this _forever_, but Colin’s making those noises that mean he’s close to coming, and Tyson wants that, too, wants to feel and taste and see him fall apart. 

Colin babbles a little before he comes, just nonsense like, “Josty, fucking shit,” and, “So good, so fucking good for me,” and then he slams forward, his hips rocking as he shakes, shakes, shakes, then goes still. 

Tyson feels it like a physical loss when Colin pulls out, like he’s missing part of himself. He’s trying and mostly failing to swallow, come dribbling out and over his face and down his chin, mixing with the spit and tears he hadn’t really noticed before now. His head feels heavy, too heavy to hold up, and he drops forward, going loose against Colin’s thigh. Colin sinks to his knees, holds Tyson by the neck and kisses him, something frantic in it, jerking Tyson off fast and hard. Tyson makes a helpless noise when he comes, and the kiss gentles, until they’re just breathing into each other’s mouths, foreheads tipped together. 

Colin brushes a kiss over his cheek. “You did so good,” he tells Tyson, and Tyson breathes a noise of delight. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

“Not going anywhere,” Tyson mumbles, but that’s not quite true. He floats apart a little without Colin there to anchor him, hold him down, keep him together. 

Colin comes back with a hand cupping his jaw and something soft and damp rubbing over his face and neck. Then there’s a bottle of water at his lips and Colin is tipping his head back, and Tyson swallows obediently. 

“Ready to move yet?” Colin asks softly, and Tyson shakes his head. 

Colin hovers for a second too long. Tyson pulls him in by the chain he’s always wearing and nuzzles into his neck. Colin huffs a laugh and stays. It must be an uncomfortable position for him, but he doesn’t move, just strokes hands through Tyson’s hair, down over his neck and shoulders, lightly squeezing, until Tyson starts to come back to himself. He’s starting to feel the consequences of having folded himself up to kneel for that long, _ow_, but when he starts to stretch out his back, Colin pulls him up to his feet. 

“Come on,” he says, and leads Tyson over to the bed, pushing him gently down. Colin gives a good fucking massage, drawing out high-pitched noises from Tyson whenever he digs in. It’s almost as good as sex, honestly, the way Colin unravels all of the tension in Tyson had built up in his body. 

After, Colin makes sure Tyson’s wrapped up in literally every blanket Colin owns, which Tyson wants to chirp him for, but he can’t really summon the energy. Colin likes taking care of him, and Tyson likes letting him. 

At least until Colin tries to feed him the tea that he promises is good for Tyson’s throat but just tastes like gross water to Tyson. 

“Later,” he mumbles, “cuddle me,” and Colin looks like he’s going to argue, but Tyson makes his eyes wide and pouts just a little, and Colin shakes his head at him and climbs into the bed next to him. 

Tyson makes a happy noise and wraps himself around Colin, lying half on top of him with his head nestled against Colin’s neck. Tyson kisses it, just to say hello. He feels more than hears Colin’s soft laugh, and has to press his answering grin into Colin’s skin. 

“Can the sex debrief wait?” Tyson asks. “You know I’m a huge fan of doing the talking about feelings with you, but I kinda just wanna, you know. Feel it, a little longer.”

Colin’s fingers scratch lightly over his scalp. Tyson’s not sure when Colin’s hand ended up back in his hair, but he arches happily into it. “Yeah, Josty,” Colin says softly, “it can wait.”


End file.
